A Little More Time
by lemondropseverus
Summary: It is often far easier to mourn what has been lost than to try to regain what can be salvaged. When Itachi survives the battle between him and Sasuke, will the two brothers finally make peace or will they continue on their divergent paths?


**Summary:** It is often easier to mourn what has been lost than to try to regain what can be salvaged. When Itachi survives the battle between him and Sasuke, will the two brothers finally make peace or will they continue on their divergent paths?

**Rating:** T

**Pairing:** None (Itachi-Sasuke brotherly love and some Kisame-Itachi friendship)

_Dear reader, _

_The aim of this story is to explore the potential development of the relationship between the two Uchiha brothers had Itachi been alive when Sasuke learns the truth about what happened during the massacre. It goes without saying, that if you haven't reached that point in the manga/anime, then there will be spoilers ahead for you. Furthermore, if you are looking for an uchiachest story, then this is __**not**__ the story for you. I have nothing against those fanfics, but the concept doesn't fit my perception of the characters. Plus, quite frankly I don't think I would know how to properly write such a story._

_That being said, if you want to read more about __the wonderfully intricate brotherly relationship between Itachi and Sasuke that Kishimoto's genius created, then I believe you will be pleased._

_Before you plunge ahead into the first chapter, I have to tell you that the story will have 14 chapters, the title of each chapter being a verse from Ecclesiastes 3:2. I am not__a religious person and this story has__** nothing whatsoever to do with any form of organized religion.**__ The verses just happen to fit with the overall development of the story. I wish to apologize in advance to any who might feel slighted by my usage of those verses. It is certainly not my intention to disrespect anyone's beliefs. _

_Last but not the least, I wish to __**thank you**__ for taking the time to check this story out. I hope that you will enjoy reading it._

_Yours faithfully, _

_Lemodrop_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters in any shape or form. They belong to Masashi Kishimoto. I am only borrowing them for a little while.

* * *

**A Little More Time **

**Chapter 1: A time to be born and a time to die, **

Sitting on the stone throne in the Uchiha Hideout, Itachi Uchiha seemed the picture of composite calm. His long legs crossed in front of him, his eyes closed to the outside world, his arm gracefully resting in the folds of his Akatsuki robe. His posture gave no indication of what was soon to pass in the stone enclave which had been in the Uchiha clan for generations. His expression gave no indication of what was going through the young man's mind. In all truthfulness, despite his apparent calm, his mind was twisted and turning as he reflected, at that very crucial point, upon the defining moments of his twenty first years on earth.

Itachi Uchiha's life had been a continuous string of labels. At birth he had been labeled as "clan heir". At four, he had been hailed as "genius". At five, he had been labeled as "older brother". At seven he became "genin" and at ten he became "chunin". Later on, during a time he did not particularly wish to recall, he would be written off as ANBU captain, spy, kin-slayer, S-class criminal, and Akatsuki member. Each role came with a fresh new set of rules he had to abide by. Each role came with expectations. Each role came with a fresh new batch of people who were waiting for him to either succeed or fail.

Nonetheless, if one were to look underneath those impressive titles, they would not see much. Itachi was hardly in the habit of playing down his own skills but he was realistic enough to know that he had performed poorly in all of his roles._ All but one, that is_, Itachi's mind offered menacingly and he felt his lips part in a self-depreciating smirk. Yes, he had succeeded as murderer of his own kin. He had been quite effective in that particular part. Even so, his brother's continuous survival could be seen as a blot on his stellar performance as murderer of the Uchiha clan. However, it was one of the few lapses he certainly did not begrudge himself.

Out of the myriad of titles that had been attached to him throughout his rather short twenty-one years, there was one he had really wanted to be worthy of. That of "older brother". It was also arguably the one he had failed at the most.

When Sasuke had been born during an exceedingly hot July night, Itachi took one look at the small wailing creature in his exhausted mother's arms and suddenly felt terrified for the first time in his life. Months beforehand, in an attempt to make her older son form a tentative bond with the unborn child, Mikoto Uchiha had tried to explain what being an older brother would entail. She had talked about his duty to love, protect and support his younger sibling. Five-year-old Itachi had listened patiently to his mother's words and, with the sense of duty which had been ingrained into him by his strict father, took that new task in stride. It was only when he was confronted with the tiny, screeching, _defenseless _form of his little brother that he understood what momentous mission he had agreed to undertake. Swallowing his fear like any worthy shinobi, Itachi took the crying Sasuke from his mother's arms and swore to never let go.

And he never did let go. Regardless of where he was, regardless of whether the path he had undertaken in life deemed it appropriate or not, Sasuke had been at the forefront of his thoughts. For years and years, whether it was from the shadows or not, he had watched over his brother. He had done everything in his power to keep him safe. Against all odds, he had managed to keep Sasuke safe, strong and alive until the age of sixteen. More so, in a couple of hours' time Itachi hoped that, as a final gift, he would be able to grant his little brother the peace of mind he so desired and deserved.

Some would say that modeling one's life around the existence of another human being is downright insane. Itachi begged to differ. His little brother was and had always been the only thing that had kept him grounded. If not for Sasuke, he would have not survived the massacre of his clan. In the metaphoric darkness that was his life, Sasuke was a beacon of light. When the tendrils of insanity threatened to get a hold of his mind he was the thing that kept him comparatively sane. In his opinion, his love for his little brother was the only speck of purity within his darkened soul. How could he not center his life around Sasuke when Sasuke was his only saving grace?

By the time he had been ten, Itachi had understood that Sasuke was in possession of two very important things which he sorely lacked. For one, his little brother was free. He was free from the crushing expectations of his clan and the ambitions of their own father. He was free to be a child and enjoy life like any child should. Sometimes, in the moments he felt less than kind, particularly after grueling training sessions with the Uchiha patriarch, Itachi begrudged Sasuke that freedom. He felt jealous of it. Then, as he promptly remembered that he would not wish for his baby brother to lead his life, he immediately quenched those unsightly feelings. Quite frankly, during their childhood he had always found it slightly ironic how Sasuke was jealous of him when he would have liked nothing better than to trade places with his younger sibling.

Secondly, Sasuke was not constantly living on borrowed time. Itachi's mind might have been strong, but his body was weak. Had it not been for Fugaku Uchiha's ambition to make an exceptional ninja out of his first-born, Itachi would have probably been branded as the mild-mannered, sickly Uchiha heir and allowed to live his short life in peace. But Fugaku could not, would not, accept that. He took it as a personal failure that his heir had been born with a crippling heart condition, which ensured that his continued existence would be limited to somewhere between ten to twenty years. Accordingly, he decided to push his son beyond the limitations of his body. He taught his son how to block the pain. He taught him how to hide his weakness. He taught him that he should aspire to go beyond what was, in essence, physically possible to him.

For years, as a child, Itachi had taken his condition to be a failure on his part. Of course, with the maturity of an adult he could understand that it was not the case. After all, he could have done nothing to influence how strong or weak nature deemed his body to be. But back then, when his scrawny body protested in pain, when his mind was foggy from the lack of oxygen, when his heart beat so hard against his ribcage that it robbed him of breath and he could not lift himself up to continue his taijutsu exercises, he used to look in his father's eyes and see nothing but disapproval. At twenty-one years of age, Itachi reckoned that the look in his father's eyes was directed at life in general or perhaps at the cruel twists of fate which had made the clan heir such a sickly individual. But as a child, he had truly believed that the recipient of that bitter disappointment was he. Sasuke did not have that burden to bear and even in his darkest moments, Itachi could not resent his brother for that.

Sometimes, in his moments of introspection, Itachi wondered if his love for his brother was a manifestation of his more masochistic tendencies. Essentially, until the age of seven when he had robbed Sasuke of everything he had, his brother had led the life he had wanted to live. Sasuke had been a healthy, happy child, unburdened by their parents, able to make friends both within and outside the clan, and being on the receiving end of countless forms of affection.

Even so, he was well aware that even at the tender age of seven his little brother had had his own demons to battle. For one, Sasuke was starved for attention and would have done anything to have at least half of Itachi's hold on their father's time and consideration. Of course, Sasuke had not known why Fugaku was so involved in the life of his elder son. He had merely assumed that their father preferred Itachi because he was better and more skilled than him. Perhaps, if he had known it had been just the opposite, if he had realized that their father paid more attention to Itachi not because he was better but because he was deficient, maybe Sasuke would have understood.

But Sasuke did not understand. In all truthfulness, he could not have understood. He just saw Itachi's unburdened kind smiles, his flawless taijutsu movements, and his perfect use of the Sharingan. He could not fathom that the aniki he loved and respected so much was so very imperfect. He did not know that when Itachi refused to help him train, it was not out of selfishness or unkindness, but because he could barely stand. He could not see that after most of the training sessions between him and his father, Itachi was in so much pain that only his fear of disappointing his parent extinguished his desire to ask to be carried home. He didn't see any of it because Itachi had taken great pains to ensure that he would not. Sasuke looked up to him. Sasuke was in awe of him. He would not, could not, rob his brother of his idea that his aniki was invincible by showing him how fundamentally defective he was.

That being said, as unwilling as he had been to do so, in one swift move he had managed to rob his brother of his childhood idol. Or better said, in about 315 swift katana moves. The memory of that night was burned in his mind in excruciating detail, curtsy of having his Sharingan activated throughout the entire ordeal. If one were to ask, Itachi could tell the name of each victim he had claimed, their age, the order in which they died, what they were wearing when death claimed them, how and where their bodies fell to the ground, their last words, and the expressions with which they stared death in the eye. He could remember everything. But above all else, he could remember Sasuke's pained expression when he had shown him their parents' passing via the Tsukuyomi. He could remember his younger brother chasing after him, the first flickers of the Sharingan spinning within his large black eyes. He could remember the fear and confusion in his expression as he proclaimed himself murderer of his own clan. It was those memories that tore at his heart and mind daily and, for years, his only comfort had been that, albeit surreptitiously, his actions had managed to ensure Sasuke's survival.

At the sound of faint footsteps against the stone floor of the hideout, Itachi opened his eyes and straightened himself slightly. Sasuke was finally coming, and he felt something akin to enthusiasm at the thought. Seven years. That was how long he had been waiting for this particular day. Seven years of turmoil, worry, and tears hidden under a self-imposed mask of stoicism. Seven years of guilt, pain and blood. There had been times when he had been afraid that this day would not come. Or, better said, that he would not be alive to see this day. Or, if he was alive, that he could not give his brother what he both desired and needed.

The lassitude of his limbs, the heaviness of his eyelids, the increased frequency of the unyielding pain in his chest, they were all constant reminders that his time was running short. If the entire affair had been as simple as a matter of Itachi dying in Sasuke's presence, then he would not have been half as concerned. But him keeling over at his brother's feet was not what Sasuke needed. His brother needed to confront him in a fight which would both give him a sense of achievement and would allow Itachi to free him from Orochimaru's curse mark. For that to happen, Itachi needed to be physically able to carry out such a fight. And, at least in his estimation, that had been meaning for quite a while that Sasuke could no longer afford to take a long time to find him.

When his brother finally stepped into the dimly lit enclave, it was not without disappointment that he noted that he could not see Sasuke very well. Of course, intellectually Itachi had known that he would not be able to see Sasuke as well as he would have liked. After all, he could barely see most things these days. That is not to say he wasn't slightly disappointed. As maudlin and foolish as it might have sounded, Itachi had hoped that he would be able to properly see with his own eyes how his little brother had grown up.

"How much can you see with those Sharingan of yours?" Itachi asked putting sentimentalities aside, and trying to keep his voice as leveled as possible.

"How much can I see with these? What I see right now is you dead at my feet" Sasuke replied promptly, his eyes fixed on the apparently nonchalant form of his older brother.

His brother's response triggered a multitude of feelings in Itachi's heart, which he deftly pushed behind his self-imposed mask of blankness. He was pleased to note Sasuke's confidence and he felt somehow thrilled at the prospect of seeing exactly how much his brother's powers had developed throughout the years. Yet, the words themselves and the coldness in his voice made Itachi's chest constrict a little. Sasuke's voice was lower than he remembered it to be which, considering that he had last seen him when he had been twelve, was perfectly reasonable. His tone was also colder. Ice cold. In fact, to a certain extent, it mirrored Itachi's own monotone and he could not say that he was pleased about that. If there was one thing that Itachi absolutely did not want, it was for his brother to be similar to him on any level. He decided that he much preferred the erratic fury that he had seen in Sasuke the last time they had encountered each other to the cold, sharp hatred he now displayed.

"You see me dead, do you? Well, go on then… make it happen" he answered as detached as possible, his eyes trying, to no avail, to focalize the blurred lines of Sasuke's face.

* * *

What occurred in the following minutes was the pinnacle of seven years of assiduous planning. With a sense of pride, he noted that Sasuke had indeed gotten stronger. Perhaps not strong enough to defeat him, if he truly did not wish to be defeated, but far stronger than a lot of other shinobi. He was pleased to see his little brother living up to his potential, even if said potential had been nourished and unlocked by one of the vilest creatures to ever hail from the Fire country. In the same vein, he was happy that Sasuke seemed to reign in Orochimaru's power. He had waited until the last minute, when his chakra was all but gone, to allow the snake-like man to take over his body. It would not have done for his brother to be as weak-spirited as to allow others to make use of him. He was pleased to see that it was not the case. Sasuke lacked neither gumption nor sheer willpower.

As he walked slowly towards where his brother seemed to actively try to blend with the remains of a stone pillar, he found it hard to maintain his ruse. Throughout the fight he had been repeating, as often as the occasion arose, that the only thing which had prevented him from killing Sasuke during the massacre was his desire to take his eyes. He had even gone as far as to use Tsukuyomi to reinforce the idea. But now he was dying. Every single step that he took, every single shaky breath, every single moment that he maintained the Susanoo sent hot waves of pain through every cell in his body. It was only through sheer willpower and the thought of further ensuring Sasuke's safety that he urged his weakened carcass to move on. He still needed to do one more thing. He still needed to implant Amaterasu in his brother's eye to make certain that he will not switch from the patronage of the now-incapacitated body-snatcher pedophile to that of their sociopathic ancestor.

The more he approached his brother, the higher the levels of panic that Sasuke was experiencing were growing. When he made a desperate attempt at stopping him with some exploding kunais, Itachi hid the bittersweet smile that had appeared at the corners of his lips with some unfounded remark about how Sasuke's eyes were his. In response, his brother seemed to lean even further, if that was humanly possible, into the standing stone structure. Thank Kami for small mercies! Had Sasuke decided to make a run for it, he was more than certain that, in the condition he was in, he could not have followed.

Now that he was close to Sasuke, he could see his brother's features somewhat clearly and felt a wave of sadness at the sheer terror that was etched into his expression. With effort, he lifted a shaky hand and pressed two bloodied fingers to Sasuke's forehead. That apparently simple gesture had meant so much to him throughout their childhood. Not a terribly demonstrative person by nature, it had always indicated the deep affection he felt for his baby brother and the fact that he was seeking his forgiveness. This time around, the gesture had also the practicality of being a means of transferring the Amaterasu, but that did not infringe upon its emotional connotation. His brother's eyes widened for a fraction of a second in shock and Itachi could not help but wonder if Sasuke understood, if he could feel the desperation with which he sought absolution and comprehend the finality of the gesture. Knowing his little brother, probably not.

"Forgive me, Sasuke…It ends with this" Itachi said in a raspy voice and, for the first time in twenty years, he allowed himself to let go.

* * *

Sasuke watched in disbelief as his brother fell forward, his head hitting the sorry remains of the stone pillar he had been backed up against. For a second, he had to quench the impulse to stretch his arms and prevent his nemesis from falling. Then, just as quickly, just as gracefully, Itachi fell backwards, his back hitting the ground with a thud, his battered face turned towards the sky, a small smile frozen on his lips. Sasuke stared at his face for a second not exactly comprehending what had just happened. Had he won? Had he truly managed to accomplish his goal? The notion seemed foreign to his exhausted mind. As if hamstrung, Sasuke fell onto the ground senseless.

* * *

"If Itachi isn't around anymore I think I will spread my wings and see where fate takes me" Kisame offered a toothy grin towards Zetsu as the younger Uchiha's team proceeded to march towards the hideout where their young leader was apparently recuperating.

When he had spoken those words to the black and white Akatsuki member he had been truthful. Without Itachi as a partner and with most of the members of the organization dead or incapacitated, there was little reason for him to stick around. Yet, before he spread his figurative wings, he had to admit that he felt rather troubled by the thought that his younger companion was no longer among the living. Kisame Hoshigaki could be accused of many things. He could justly be called ruthless and cold-hearted. He could be faulted for many crimes and acts of brutality. Yet, sentimentality was not something he could be accused of. He attributed the foreign unpleasant feeling to the fact that he had been Itachi's partner for more than seven years and, despite their very different personalities, they had made a rather good team.

In a fit of what could only be identified as whimsy on his part, Kisame decided that before he left, he would at least pay his respects to where his companion had fallen. It would be a fitting thing to do considering the length of their association and it would seal the matter forever. It would also probably purge the unwelcomed feelings he was experiencing. As such, with a tight grip on Samehada, lest that Suigetsu brat changed his mind and challenged him out of the blue, he made his way towards the place where the two brothers had fought.

It was definitely not hard to identify where the battle had taken place. For one, Itachi's Amaterasu was still devastating the foliage of the surrounding forest and, secondly, what had been quite a solid structure had been turned into nothing but chunks of stone and rubble. Kisame was impressed. Who would have thought that two shinobi who were predominantly genjutsu users could have a fight with such obvious corporeal results? Especially considering that one of the combatants was Itachi who, more often than not, preferred to waste as little energy in a fight as possible. Then again, his little brother had always known how to get under his partner's skin.

It was only when he reached the remains of the single still-standing pillar that Kisame's surprise increased ten-fold. At the base of the pillar stood the prone form of a man. And not any man, but Itachi. Not in a million years had Kisame been expecting to come across his partner's lifeless body, face upwards, ironically stationed under the symbol of the Uchiha clan. He had simply supposed that, before coming to announce the outcome of the confrontation, Zetsu had taken care of it, either through conventional or more nefarious means. Perhaps he had been too busy taking the young Uchiha brat to get medical attention to tend to the body of the fallen Akatsuki member. Or perhaps he had simply not cared about what would happen to the body of the Uchiha.

With something akin to curiosity, the blue man approached his still partner. Even after such a lengthy association there was precious little that he actually knew about the Uchiha. Itachi had been a guarded person who spoke little, either of himself or any other subjects. During their journeys he had been content to allow Kisame to prattle about anything and everything, contributing to the conversations sparingly and only if it was absolutely necessary. Even so, throughout the years Kisame had learned how to read Itachi, so to speak. If to the outside world Itachi had only one expression, that of absolute indifference, Kisame knew better. Itachi, like any other person in existence, was able to get angry, bored, annoyed, amused and so on. He had only been better at hiding it than most.

At first, he had started to develop the skill of reading his partner's expressions out of a sense of self-preservation. After all, it is not every day that one starts sharing almost every waking moment with a thirteen year old kid who, for unknown reasons, had killed his entire clan, and was in possession of, as Deidara used to so eloquently put it, 'voodoo eyes' which could inflict a very painful death. Kisame could have been considered borderline suicidal if he had _not_ tried to figure out what annoyed the kid. Afterwards, when he understood that Itachi was as likely to kill him as it was to stop raining in Amegakure, trying to guess what his partner was thinking became a bit of a game for him. It certainly converted the long monologues that filled their journeys into a conversation of sorts.

That being said, he had never in the past seven years seen Itachi wear in life the expression which he was wearing in death. Despite being battered and bruised, his face seemed very peaceful. His thin, pale lips were spread into something akin to a smile which only served to complete the overall look of absolute serenity. It somewhat disappointed Kisame that Itachi had never found such tranquility in life and it gratified him, to a certain extent, that he had been able to do so in death. A sad smile playing at the corners of his lips, the blue man extended his large hand to smooth some of his partner's dark bangs from his closed eyes. Then he froze.

Itachi was warm. Not overly warm, but he certainly was not corpse-cold. Then again, only a few minutes, short of half an hour, or maybe short of forty five minutes, had passed since the battle between brothers had apparently concluded. It would not be a stretch to believe that Itachi's body had not had time to cool yet. Still, Kisame knew that he would have a whole lot of unpleasant feelings to deal with if he did not check if Itachi had somehow survived the fight.

In one fluid movement, surprisingly graceful for such a big man, he lowered his left ear to the left side of Itachi's thin chest. He couldn't hear it very well, but he was certain that a heartbeat was present. It was weak, muffled and horribly off-kilter, but it was a sign of life and suddenly Kisame's existence became far more complicated than he had initially expected. Itachi was alive. Barely, but he was alive. As if to double-check, he pressed his blue index and third fingers to the man's carotid artery. Yes, definitely alive.

Morality had never been one of Kisame's strong suits but it seemed somehow wrong to allow Itachi to succumb to the elements and, judging by the faintness of his partner's heartbeat, it would not take much for him to waste away. Had he been in the same situation while still a part of Kirigakure's ninja corps he would have simply turned away, not willing to complicate his life. But the man lying at his feet on the ground was not one of the weak ninja of Kirigakure. He was Itachi Uchiha. He was the man who had been his partner for more than seven years. He was the man who had saved him more than once from giving away his life uselessly. He was the quiet kid who he had watched grow into an equally quiet man. Somewhere along the line a bond had been formed between them and, regardless of how callous Kisame generally was, he could not disregard it. If nothing, attempting to save Itachi would at least repay the many times he had cautioned him against a particularly strong opponent or even went as far as to remove him from the path of a stray kunai.

Wondering what exactly to do with his partner now that he was resolute to prevent his death, Kisame took Itachi into his arms, stifling the urge to prop him up on Samehada. Somehow he doubted his partner would survive the strain of being carelessly carried on his formidable sword. With a sigh, he started to walk, not exactly knowing where he was walking to.

* * *

Not long after the blue Akatsuki member left the ruins of the Uchiha compound behind walking in the general direction of Amegakure, two cloaked figures appeared on the former battlefield. One was that of a curious cross between a Venus flytrap and a human, the two sides of his body evenly colored either black and white. The other, was a tall man sporting the trademark Akatsuki cloak and an orange mask. Without exchanging any words, this strange duo made their way towards the exact place where only mere moments previously the body of one Itachi Uchiha had laid.

"Well? Where is it?" the masked man asked his companion in a deep, low voice.

"It was here, before I went and told Kisame…" the white side of the other man's face replied meekly.

"_Maybe it was eaten by crows_" his dark side added and offered a somewhat sinister chuckle.

The masked man, known as Tobi among the members of the criminal organization, suppressed a sigh. Where was Itachi's body? Had he cast some jutsu to make certain it was destroyed after his death? He wouldn't put it past him to have done such a thing, if he had not wanted his body to fall into the hands of some ninja with degenerate purposes. But, on the other hand, that would have not made any sense if he took Sasuke into account. And Itachi always took Sasuke into account. Itachi would have known that if Sasuke ever awakened the Mangekyo, then he would need a spare set of eyes to prevent him from going blind. Considering his devotion to his baby brother, the man would have easily allowed himself to become not only a spare set of eyes, but a spare set of whatever parts Sasuke might require. Thus, the hypothesis that he had destroyed his own body was an improbable one.

As such, he was left to conclude that someone had taken the body. Of course, there were a whole lot of people who were interested in obtaining the Sharingan and would have given an arm and a leg for it. Whoever it was would have had to know when and where the battle had taken place. Had either one of the two brothers been tracked by another shinobi? And if they had been, who was that shinobi? He was pretty certain that it could not have been either one of the Konoha ninja that he had encountered on his way there. As notorious as Konoha was for its misuse of the dead, they would have been much more interested in retrieving Sasuke than taking hold of his deceased brother. Then, where the hell was the man's corpse?

"Zetsu, I want you to scour the entire area for clues to what might have happened. A dead body does not just disappear into thin air!" he ordered gruffly. Itachi's body was important in the grand scheme of things, perhaps even more important than Itachi himself had been, and he would not allow it to just disappear.

* * *

_A few days later..._

As he watched the retreating back of his supposed ancestor, Sasuke had to fight the urge to lose every shred of composure he possessed and throw something- perhaps a chair- at Madara's head. Maybe if his muscles had not protested at every single movement he made he would have done just that. He was angry. No, angry was too soft a word to describe what he was feeling. He was seething. He would have liked nothing better than to take Madara by the neck and bang his head repeatedly against the nearest wall until the contents of his cranium spilled onto the floor of the cave they were currently residing in. Perhaps then the older man would understand that he had no right, _absolutely no right_, to make him doubt every single principle that had been governing his life for the past seven years or so.

At that moment Sasuke reckoned that there was some merit in the saying "ignorance is bliss". Not that he had ever advocated ignorance. On the contrary. He had always condemned it in others (the blond dobe especially). And yet ironically, it seemed that throughout his entire life he had been the paragon of ignorance. He had been ignorant to the true objectives of his clan, he had been ignorant to the nature of Konoha and he had certainly been ignorant about his brother's life and persona. Quite frankly, he had not been given much of a chance to _not_ be oblivious.

"_Each of us lives dependent on our individual awareness and knowledge. All that we call reality. However knowledge and awareness are equivocal. One's reality might be another's illusion. Don't you think that's true, Sasuke?_"

When Itachi had spoken those words during their fight, Sasuke had simply discarded them as some sort of philosophical platitude which served to mock him. They had held no meaning to him and probably, had Madara not decided to suddenly shatter the foundation of his beliefs, they would have never meant anything. But at this moment, now that he knew the truth, he recognized the underlying significance of those words. They were an invitation, perhaps a pleading (if Itachi was capable of pleading), to look beyond the surface. They were a bitter taunt telling Sasuke that no matter how hard he looked, without outside help, he would never be able to gauge the truth.

Sasuke wanted to feel guilty. He truly did. He wanted to feel guilty for believing that his kind aniki was a cruel mass-murderer and for not having the foresight to look more into the massacre. Above all, he wanted to feel guilty for killing Itachi. But, in truth, he could not. This entire thing, this entire mess was of Itachi's own creation. How could he have been expected at seven years of age to be able to see through the deception? Particularly since Itachi had gone as far as to show him the images of his parent's deaths.

And yet, as he reflected more on the situation, Sasuke realized that the key had always been there, stored in the deep, dark corners of his mind. He remembered seeing Itachi cry after he had spoken to him on that fateful night. He had previously discarded it as a mere hallucination, but in light of recent discoveries it made sense that Itachi had shed tears. Not only that, but, even as a child he felt he must have been particularly backward to simply accept that his aniki, his kind, loving, aniki, had changed his personality out of the blue. Then, there was also the matter that his brother had essentially told him, before his departure, how to awaken the Mangekyo. How many killers told their next victim how to get stronger?

Had he actually taken the time to consider them, all those things probably would have at least stirred some confusion within him. Perhaps they would have motivated him to look into the whole affair more. Perhaps they would have made him beg Itachi to let him join him wherever he went. Nonetheless, in his defense he had been seven and traumatized. Subsequently, for obvious reasons, he had been rather unwilling to revisit memories of that night. Thus, he got lost in the web of lies that his brother had woven. It seemed, Sasuke allowed a depreciating smile to break his blank expression, that a lot of Itachi's convoluted plan hedged on his inability to think.

_Itachi killed his friends, his superiors, his lover, his father, his mother, but he couldn't kill his little brother. He killed every shred of feeling in his heart in order to slaughter his own kin for the sake of his village, but he couldn't bring himself to kill you. Do you understand what that means? To him your life was even more precious than the village. _

Madara's words, spoken with such conviction by the older man, had been burned into his mind and served to trigger a myriad of emotions Sasuke had believed to be dead. The pathetic, whiny, sentimental part of him, a part he had believed to have killed around age eight, could not help but be happy. Not happy about the situation, but happy at the thought that the brother he had admired so much had loved him so deeply. That part of him seemed almost eager to accept Madara's words unquestioningly because they meant that he had been cared for, they meant that the childhood notions he had held about Itachi could still stand true. They meant, in a sense, that his brother had never quite been lost to him.

At the completely opposite end of the spectrum, Sasuke, the teenager whose soul had been seeped in hatred could not help but feel burning resentment. His older brother might have been hailed as a genius but he was an idiot. An absolute, utter imbecile. After all, only an absolute idiot would have allowed himself to be used in such a way. And for what? For the protection of a worthless village? To maintain the honor of a dishonorable clan? To preserve the life of a child? All those things seemed inconsequential to him and he could not understand why Itachi would willingly choose to throw away his own life for any of them. Yet, he somehow could not direct his entire resentment towards his brother. After all, he had done everything in his power to ensure that Sasuke had been safe. Whatever shaky notion of fairness he still held told him that it would not be just to blame his aniki for everything. No, the blame for the utter destruction of both his and his brother's lives lay squarely on the shoulders of those who had ordered Itachi to massacre his clan. It was on them that he would seek to take revenge.

* * *

The first thing that he could feel was stifling warmth. The second was surprise that he could actually feel. Itachi had not given much thought to the afterlife, or its existence for that matter, but he had supposed that the dead could not feel a thing. After all, it would be far too cruel if the unpleasant sensations experienced in life followed one beyond death. And yet, the horrible heat that engulfed him seemed to be evidence to the contrary. He tried to move to rid himself of that unpleasant sensation and was greeted with a much more familiar feeling. Pain. His muscles protested at his attempts and momentarily overwhelmed by the experience, he decided to stay still. Instead, in order to better assess his surroundings, he opened his eyes and made a startling discovery. He wasn't dead. Somehow, his weak, battered, useless body had refused to die. Unless his afterlife took the form of a small shabby room furnished with one cot and one nightstand, that is. He suspected it didn't. That and the rudimentary IVs stuck in both his arms clued him into the fact that he was certainly not dead.

Fate was mocking him. He supposed it was understandable. After all, considering his numerous transgressions against humanity, why would fate allow him to die a swift death at the hands of his brother? Why would it allow his plan to come to fruition when it could simply torment him further? Pushing the undignified feeling of self-pity that threatened to engulf him aside, Itachi's thoughts turned, as they often did regardless of the situation, to his brother. What of Sasuke? What had happened to him? Was he somewhere close? Did he know that he had failed? He certainly hoped he didn't, not for his own sake but for Sasuke's. If everything had gone according to plan and Sasuke believed him to be dead, then, by now, his brother would most likely (hopefully) be in Konoha, celebrated as the avenger of the Uchiha clan and trying to start a new life, free of the shadows of the past, with his friends. It would not do for this minor miscalculation, for the insignificant fact that his heart was still beating, to disturb Sasuke's peace.

"Ah, I see you have deemed to join us into the land of the living" the voice was gruff and rather unpleasant. Sluggishly, Itachi turned his head and followed the voice to try to identify to whom it pertained. A short, hefty man of about fifty years of age, if the wrinkles lining his face were any indication, had entered the room and was approaching him. As far as Itachi's blurry vision could tell, he sported a bald head, a rather prominent nose and rather small eyes of a color he could not discern.

"You are a very lucky young man, you know?!" the man approached him further, casually taking his wrist and checking his pulse.

Reflexively, Itachi protested to the touch and tried to extract his wrist from the man's large, rough hands. It was testament of his weakness that his efforts seemed to have absolutely no effect on the man. As if splashed wide awake by his feebleness, he became aware that he was in an unknown place, with an unknown person and, apparently, with no means to defend himself. That feeling of impotence was a novel one and, despite his better efforts, he felt a surge of panic course through him. Mustering what little strength he had, he once again tried, more forcefully to extract himself from the man's grasp. He could not think straight. He could not understand that even if he had been able to free himself there was little to no chance that he would be able to actually run away. In that moment, it suddenly seemed very important that the man released his hold on his wrist.

Physical attack miserably failing, Itachi could feel his chakra focus on his eyes and in less than an instant his Sharingan was activated. The unexpected shift in power made his stomach turn and his chest clench. Frustratingly enough, the man seemed nonplused at the appearance of the bloodline limit. Some long-forgotten sense of self-preservation in overdrive, he tried to lift himself. The man let go of his arm and seemed to be saying something but he could hardly hear. The only thing he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and the short, ragged breaths that escaped his chest. Instinctively he raised his hand to his lips and coughed roughly, blood seeping through his fingers onto the cotton sheets. All of a sudden he felt very tired and, had he been in a state to do so, Itachi would have laughed at how pathetic he was.

"Settle down!" the man commanded sharply. He clasped a pair of steady hands around Itachi's thin shoulders and gently lowered him back onto the pillows "Silly child, are you trying to kill yourself?" hands aglow with medical ninjutu pressed onto his chest. It felt a bit easier to breathe and he could no longer feel his throat choked with blood. Once again, without asking any sort of permission, the man took hold of his left wrist.

"What…" his voice was raspy and his throat was dry, and Itachi found, not without a certain degree of annoyance, that he could not say much more.

"Your partner brought you here. You were very lucky… one minute more and you would have been dining with the Devil right about now" the man explained while he unceremoniously released his wrist and, with a displeased grimace, started writing something on a scroll. "As it is, you escaped that particular encounter various times by the skin of your teeth"

Had he the strength, or maybe had he been a different person, Itachi would have scoffed. Yes, he was indeed very lucky. It was sheer luck that, instead of dying swiftly and relatively painlessly, he would have to look forward to death by drowning in his own blood. If Sasuke didn't realize his mistake and came to put him out of his misery, that is.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, I hope you have enjoyed this first installment of A Little More Time. I would be very grateful if you took a little of your time and sent me your comments for this chapter through reviews**.** Any form of feedback and criticisms are more than welcomed.

Once again, thank you for reading this!


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